The Mistress of Bonaventure. Bindloss Harold
did not slacken it was plain that Steel had failed to loose the straining screws without convenient tools. Three slender cords of steel alone pent in the stock that were to set me free of debt, but I had no implements with which to break them, so they also held me fast to be dragged down helpless to beggary.
At last the wire I struck at bent outward further, and when I next brought the boot heel down there was a metallic ringing as one strand parted, and I shouted in breathless triumph, knowing the other must follow. The fire was close behind the pent-up herd now, and I guessed that very shortly my life would depend on my horse's speed. Just then Steel dashed up, mounted, shouting: "Into the saddle with you. The fence is going!"
I saw him unhitch my horse's bridle and struggle to hold the beast ready between himself and me, but I meant to make quite certain of my part, so I brought the boot heel down thrice again. Then I leaped backward, clutched at the bridle, and scrambled to the saddle as a black mass rolled out of the gap where the wire flew back. I remember desperately endeavoring to head the horse clear of it along the fence, and wondering how many of the cattle would fall over the remaining wires and be crushed before their carcasses formed a causeway for the rest; but the horse was past all guidance; and now that the fence had lost its continuity more fathoms of it went down and the dusky mass poured over it. Then something struck me with a heavy shock, the horse stumbled as I slipped my feet out of the stirrups, and we went down together. I saw nothing further, though I could feel the earth tremble beneath me; then this sensation faded, and I was conscious of only a numbing pain beneath my neck and my left arm causing me agony. After this there followed a space of empty blackness.
When I partly recovered my faculties the pain was less intense, though my left arm, which was tied to my side, felt hot and heavy, and the jolting motion convinced me that I lay in the bottom of a wagon.
"Did you get the stock clear?" I gasped, striving to raise my head from the hay truss in which it was almost buried; and somebody who stooped down held a bottle to my lips.
"Don't you tell him," a subdued voice said, and the man, who I think was Steel, came near choking me as he poured more spirit than I could swallow down my throat and also down my neck.
"That's all right. Don't worry. We're mighty thankful we got you," he said.
Then the empty blackness closed in on me again, and I lay still, wondering whether I were dead and buried, and if so, why the pricking between shoulder and breast should continue so pitilessly; until that ceased in turn, and I had a hazy idea that someone was carrying me through an interminable cavern; after which there succeeded complete oblivion.
CHAPTER VII
A BITTER AWAKENING
The first day on which my attendants would treat me as a rational being was a memorable one to me. It must have been late in the morning when I opened my eyes, for the sun had risen above the level of the open window, and I lay still blinking out across the prairie with, at first, a curious satisfaction. I had cheated death and been called back out of the darkness to sunlight and life, it seemed. Then I began to remember, and the pain in the arm bound fast to my side helped to remind me that life implied a struggle. Raising my head, I noticed that there had been changes made in my room, and a young woman standing by the window frowned at me.
"I guess all men are worrying, but you're about the worst I ever struck, Rancher Ormesby. Just you lie back till I fix you, or I'll call the boys in to tie you fast with a girth."
She was a tall, fair, well-favored damsel, with a ruddy countenance and somewhat bold eyes; but I was disappointed when I saw her clearly, even though her laugh was heartsome when I answered humbly: "I will try not to trouble you if you don't mean to starve me."
Miss Sally Steel, for it was my neighbor's sister, shouted to somebody through the window, and then turned to the man who rose from a corner. "You just stay right where you are. When I call cookie I'll see he comes. I've been running this place as it ought to be run, and you won't know Gaspard's when you get about, Rancher Ormesby."
The man laughed, and I saw it was Thorn, though I did not know then that after doing my work and his own during the day he had watched the greater part of every night beside me.
"Feeling pretty fit this morning?" he asked.
"Comparatively so," I answered. "I should feel better if I knew just what happened to me and to the stock. You might tell me, beginning from the time the fence went down."
"If he does there'll be trouble," broke in Miss Steel, who, I soon discovered, had constituted herself autocratic mistress of Gaspard's Trail. "He must wait until you have had breakfast, anyway." And I saw the cook stroll very leisurely towards the window carrying a tray.
"Was anybody calling?" he commenced, with the exasperating slowness he could at times assume; and then, catching sight of me, would have clambered in over the low window-sill but that Miss Steel stopped him.
"Anybody calling! I should think there was – and when I want people they'll come right along," she said. "No; you can stop out there – isn't all the prairie big enough for you? There'll be some tone about this place before I'm through," and the cook grinned broadly as he caught my eye.
Miss Steel's voice was not unpleasant, though it had a strident ring, and her face was gentle as she raised me on a heap of folded blankets with no great effort, though I was never a very light weight, after which, between my desire to please her and a returning appetite, I made a creditable meal.
"That's a long way better," she said approvingly. "Tom brought a fool doctor over from Calgary, who said you'd got your brain mixed and a concussion of the head. 'Fix up his bones and don't worry about anything else,' I said. 'It would take a steam hammer to make any concussion worth talking of on Rancher Ormesby's head.'"
"Thorn has not answered my question," I interrupted; and Miss Steel flashed a glance at the foreman, who seemed to hesitate before he answered. "It happened this way: You were a trifle late lighting out when you'd cut the fence. Steel said one of the beasts charged you, and after that more of them stampeded right over you. The horse must have kept some of them off, for he was stamped out pretty flat, and it was a relief to hear you growling at something when we got you out."
"How did you get me out?" I asked, and Thorn fidgeted before he answered: "It wasn't worth mentioning, but between us Steel and I managed to split the rush, and the beasts went by on each side of us."
"At the risk of being stamped flat, too! I might have expected it of you and Steel," I said; and the girl's eyes sparkled as she turned to the foreman.
"Then Steel went back for the wagon after we found you had an arm and a collarbone broken. I rode in to the railroad and wired for a doctor. Sally came over to nurse you, and a pretty tough time she has had of it. You had fever mighty bad."
"There's no use in saying I'm obliged to both of you, because you know it well," I made shift to answer; and Sally Steel stroked the hair back from my forehead in sisterly fashion as she smiled at Thorn. "But what about the stock? Did they all get through?"
Thorn's honest face clouded, and Sally Steel laid her plump hand on my mouth. "You're not going to worry about that. A herd of cattle stampeded over you and you're still alive. Isn't that good enough for you?"
I moved my head aside. "I shall worry until I know the truth. All the beasts could not have got out. How many did?" I asked.
Thorn looked at Sally, then sideways at me, and I held my breath until the girl said softly: "You had better tell him."
"Very few," said the foreman; and I hoped that my face was as expressionless as I tried to make it when I heard the count. "Some of those near the fence got clear, and some didn't. Steel had grubbed up a post, and when the wires slacked part of the rest got tangled up and went down, choking the gap. It was worse than a Chicago slaughter-house when the fire rolled up."
"The horses, too? How long have I been ill, and has any rain fallen?" I asked, with the strange steadiness that sometimes follows a crushing blow, and Thorn moodily shook his head.
"Both horses done for. You've been ill 'bout two weeks, I think. No rain worth mentioning – and the crop is clean wiped out."
There